well I live with Snakes and Lizards

The friend raven, here? How kind. He shall perhaps not mind the tiresome company of one who's indisposed him so much in the past.

...that the Seven have sent a delegation here is likely unsurprising. That, however, both forms of the Lord should --

I am at a loss of words. Indeed, I fear that soon we shall all find ourselves at a loss of everything.

Ah well. Tea...?

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Don't get so gloomy, Gil, this isn't the 90s anymore.

Maybe later, I have company who prefers not to be disturbed.

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Ah.

~~New younglings, pray to your vice? I come to their rescue!~~

So very much the better that I've taken the liberty of pursuing what little of your dream essence is still easily bid into recognition. I should think that even these old bones will be able to satisfactorily locate you within a few minutes.

...I'll make your tea and serve it hot. Do be prepared. Such jolly old times we'll have together! ~~Under strict supervision, you dog.~~

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How about not?

Good luck blowing through the wards.

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I say, Corinthian, this is rather unseemly. Do please open, I've even brought a mop.

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...Corinthian, I... quite don't know what to say.

Indeed, the circumstances appear to hardly incline in my favour. Alas, I shall regrettably have to address the Lord as to the respect. Surely he will see the righteousness of my proposal.

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What proposal, that you want to barge into my apartment and violate my privacy? Even the Lord&Mistress dare not set foot in this place, too much bad luck magic for you old world types.

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Hath he no fear, he who walks with the Light, armed with wit and wisdom...

...and kleenex, in endless supply.

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Try lysol, unfortunately it's been a week since I've had a chance to wash the sheets.

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We shall emulate the stoics in their approach to the plights of life: a stiff upper lip, determination, and... detergent.

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I can do the laundry myself.

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The fuck is this, Cori.

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Someone from the dreamscape. Ignore him, he can take care of himself.

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That explained the sudden spike in immortal wankery.

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He should be dead, he refused the boss' offer to be remade. Probably some kind of special retirement plan nobody's told me about.

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Tell that to the fucker in my special cross.

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Can he hear?

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I hope he can. Feel free to have a word with him.

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Merely an ignoble soul with few remaining expectations, beyond a particular cuppa and the finer of Poe's novellas.

...pray, you wouldn't by all means happen to be this monumental scoundrel's newest - ah - object of interest...? Has he deprived you of either liberty, finances or honour...?

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I say more gains than loses, squire. Who the hell are you?

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